


Let's Go Steal A Cat (Allergy)

by seraphina_snape



Category: Leverage
Genre: Animals, Cats, Competition, Gen, Humor
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-30
Updated: 2020-12-30
Packaged: 2021-03-10 19:13:39
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,713
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28272189
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/seraphina_snape/pseuds/seraphina_snape
Summary: "Only one problem.""What?""We don't have a cat."(AKA Parker, Eliot and Hardison compete to steal the best cat.)
Relationships: Alec Hardison & Parker & Eliot Spencer
Comments: 18
Kudos: 37
Collections: 2020 Leverage Secret Santa Exchange





	Let's Go Steal A Cat (Allergy)

**Author's Note:**

  * For [NienteZero](https://archiveofourown.org/users/NienteZero/gifts).



> NienteZero, I hope you enjoy this fic. Have a great holiday. 
> 
> I got so many awesome prompts from my giftee, but something about this one ("let's go steal a fancy cat competition") spoke to me instantly. I know next to nothing about cats but I hope I managed to fake it well enough.
> 
> The story is set early during the show, but after the Juror #6 Job.

Nate tapped his finger thoughtfully against his chin, eyes staring unseeingly at Hardison's presentation. "Yeah," he murmured. "Yeah, that's how we get him." 

"How?" Sophie asked. "The man is a machine. All he does is _work_."

Nate grinned. "Exactly." He grabbed the remote from Hardison and flipped back to the 'fact sheets' about the mark. 

"That right there."

"What?"

"The cat allergy."

Sophie blinked. "You… want to shove a cat in his face?"

"I want to shove a really _expensive_ cat in his face, alongside a very high maintenance client--" He gave Sophie a meaningful smile. "--that he can't get rid of because he needs the money. The cat's gonna make him miserable. So either he takes his medication and gets drowsy or he's incredibly stressed. Either way--"

"Easy pickings." Sophie interrupted. "Only one problem."

"What?"

"We don't have a cat."

#

"Really?" Eliot groused. "A cat, Nate?"

Nate shrugged. "I figured you'd go for it – exploiting a weakness like this is less, uh, on the nose than, say, a fist, but…" Nate trailed off and chuckled. 

"Yeah, funny. But where are we supposed to get a cat?"

Nate raised an eyebrow. "Last time I checked, I wasn't the retrieval specialist." 

Eliot grumbled under his breath. 

Parker appeared at his shoulder. "Why are you so grumpy?" She grinned. "Afraid of stealing a cat? Think you can't hack it?"

Eliot rolled his eyes. 

Parker crossed her arms and gave Eliot a challenging look. "I bet you I can steal a better cat!"

Next to them, Hardison cleared his throat. "Um, excuse me. I know I'm the hacker and you're the thief, but this isn't exactly like stealing the Mona Lisa. We're talking about a cat here. A small fluffy kitty. A _child_ could steal a cat."

Parker and Eliot exchanged a look. 

Parker raised an eyebrow. "Oh, so you're saying you're the better thief when it's not diamonds or art? Pah! I can steal _anything_ , Hardison. ANYTHING!"

Eliot clapped a hand on Hardison's shoulder, possibly squeezing a little more forcefully than necessary. "You said it: you're the hacker. You might be the best at stealing money out of bank accounts, but you have no idea how to steal anything else. Maybe you should leave it to the experts."

Parker scoffed. "Experts? More like, expert, singular. I'm the _thief_ here."

"And I'm the _retrieval specialist_ ," Eliot countered. "I can steal a damn cat."

"Forty-eight hours," Hardison said. "Whoever brings the best cat wins."

Parker nodded. "Deal."

Eliot rolled his eyes. "Fine."

"Great," Hardison said. "I'm gonna win just to spite you."

They all took different exits, leaving Nate standing in the kitchen and Sophie sitting at the breakfast bar.

Nate sighed. "I just wanted one of them to steal a cat."

Sophie shrugged. "Well, looks like I've got the day off. I'm gonna go shopping." She tossed Nate a wallet – _his_ wallet – and stood up, tucking a credit card into her purse.

"Hey!"

Sophie raised an eyebrow. "What? If I'm gonna be a high maintenance client looking to drop a few million on first class real estate, I need to look the part. And I'm not going to use my own money to buy gaudy nouveau-riche designer clothes."

She flounced out of the room, leaving Nate to sip his by now lukewarm coffee in peace.

#

Eliot used the drive to his apartment to cool down. Parker might be a world-class thief, but he was a world class retrieval specialist.

Back home, he checked his kit: gloves, rope, extra clothes, some cash, four knives - five if you counted the one in his belt, but it was under three inches so it was more of a very sharp belt buckle. A passport - not his real passport, of course, and not one of the ones Hardison gave him, in case Hardison decided to put up roadblocks for him and Parker. 

The only snag he hit was the fact that expensive cats were a little thin on the ground in his neighborhood. There was only one person he knew who had a pretty expensive cat. After a moment's hesitation, Eliot took out his cell phone and dialed. 

Someone on the other end picked up, but didn't speak.

Eliot winced. "Cheryl? It's Eliot. I know you're probably pissed, but I had an extremely good reason for leaving the way I did."

Cheryl sighed. "Don't you always?"

"Comes with the job." 

"Hm."

"Look, you know I wouldn't be calling if it wasn't important."

"Hm."

"I--I need to borrow your cat."

After a few moments of absolute silence, Eliot took the phone from his ear to confirm that Cheryl had indeed hung up on him.

He tossed the cell phone down on his sofa and sighed. "This is gonna be harder than I thought."

#

"Not a thief," Hardison muttered. "Ha!"

The first thing he'd done was to search for a list of expensive cat breeds. The second thing he'd done was to hack into all of the local shelters looking for a matching cat. After a quick re-programming of his facial recognition software to work on cat characteristics instead of faces, he leaned back in his chair and turned to his backup laptop for some much needed WoW. 

It took three hours for the first ping. A Bengal cat, according to the software. Hardison made a note of it, but it wasn't the most expensive cat on his list. 

The next to pings were false alarms and Hardison was just thinking he'd have to go with the Bengal when he hit the jackpot: a young ashera cast, the most expensive cat on the market according to various cat websites, due to being an engineered designer cat. Hardison almost couldn't believe his luck. 

He switched to the shelter's website and quickly found the cat in question. 

"Hi, yes, is this the Happy Homes Animal Shelter?"

"Yes, sir."

"Great, awesome. Listen, it's my niece's and nephew's birthday – they're twins, you know – and they've been begging for a cat for ages. My sister finally agreed that I could get one for them and I've been searching for a nice shelter cat for hours now. But I think I've found it on your website. Name of 'Spotty'."

"Oh, yeah, Spotty. He's new; we only got him last week."

"Is he still available?"

"Absolutely. Do you want to come out and meet him? We can do the interview today." 

"Sure," Hardison said. "Wait, interview?"

"Adopting a pet is not a decision that you should make lightly. It's a very serious event – not just for you but for the people around you and your future pet. At Happy Homes we like to make sure our animals are going to happy homes." 

Hardison laughed. "Yeah. Great. That's... great." 

He made an appointment for later that day and spent the time until he had to leave reading up on cats and what anyone adopting a cat needed to know. It was illuminating, vaguely horrifying (if he ever got a cat, it would be an indoor only kind of cat – zero chance of dead mice, birds or other wildlife being dragged home) and a lot more involved than he'd expected.

Hardison picked one of his fake IDs and slid it into his wallet next to a photoshopped picture of himself with his fake niece and nephew. Barely six hours into this bet and he was about to go get his cat. 

"Hell yeah, baby," he quietly cheered himself on. "You got this; you the man."

#

People skills were not even on the list of Parker's usual skill set – there was a reason she needed extensive coaching in any kind of Parker-is-going-to-grift situation – but she'd been working on them ever since she took up with the team. One thing working with Nate and the others had shown her was that, occasionally, people skills did come in handy.

So Parker went home, changed into her Alice costume – it was easier to stay in character that way – and told herself she was a vegetarian. A vegetarian librarian, or whatever the hell Alice's job was, who loved cheesy movies and probably cats. 

"Deep breath, keep your head in the game, you can do this," she said to herself, trying to mimic Sophie's accent because Sophie always had great advice about this sort of thing.

She dialed. 

"Milbank."

"Peggy! Hi, it's Alice!"

"Alice! Wow, I haven't heard from you in a while. Well, I saw your stuff on Facebook, of course. Did you really marathon every single Nicholas Sparks movie?"

Parker had no idea who Nicholas Sparks was or what kinds of movies he was in – Hardison did all of the fake ID stuff. "Uh. Yeah?"

"Well, color me impressed! That must have been quite some weekend. Oh, I haven't gotten around to watching Safe Haven yet. Is it as good as people say?"

"Uh, yeah. It was... surprising."

"Surprising? In what way?"

Parker internally cursed herself. One of Sophie's bits of advice was to never invite questions if you had no clue what you were talking about. "Well, eh. The guy turned out to be an alien in the end."

There was a short pause and Parker was about to hang up, go out and steal the nearest expensive looking cat when Peggy giggled. 

"You get me every time!"

Parker gave a weak chuckle. 

"Okay, so I'm guessing you called for a reason? Are you going to be in town?"

"No, no, I'm still, uh. No. But I need some cat-related advice and you're the first person I thought of."

"Aww. I'll do my very best then. What is it you want to know? Are you going to adopt your very own furbaby?"

"Not exactly. I'm... I'm doing research! For a book. That I am writing?"

"Oh, wow, really? That's so exciting."

"Yeah. I'm not very far yet but the main character has a cat. Like, a super expensive cat. The most expensive cat in the world."

"Okay."

"And then it... gets stolen."

"Oh no."

"Yeah." Parker licked her lips. This was it. _Do not mess it up, Parker!_ "And I was wondering if you knew where I could, um, look at expensive cats? For my research. So I can describe the way they look and act and everything."

"Oh, that sounds like a great idea! You could always go to a shelter--"

"But it needs to be a super expensive cat. Aren't they different?"

"Hmm, maybe. Not that I would know; my babies are street cats. But I know that there is like a designer cat breeder somewhere in your area. I'm gonna look it up and text you the address, okay?"

Parker smiled. "Okay. Great, that's awesome. Thank you so much, Peggy!"

"No problem! What are friends for, huh?"

"Absolutely. Oh, I gotta go, my break is over."

"Keep me updated on that novel, all right?"

"Will do, bye!" 

Parker hung up and punched the air.

#

The next morning, Eliot was in Las Vegas, ringing the doorbell at a gated entrance to a sprawling villa on the outskirts of town.

"Yes?" 

Eliot looked up at the little security camera, knowing Cheryl was on the other side. "It's me. About my phone call yesterday..." He held up the pet carrier he'd picked up at a local mall.

The intercom clicked off. When the door buzzer didn't sound immediately, Eliot hesitated. He couldn't give up – where else was he going to get a rich people cat? He couldn't exactly go down to a shelter and pick the most expensive looking cat.

Finally the buzzer went off and Eliot pushed through the gate. Cheryl met him at the front door. 

"You really weren't kidding, were you?"

Eliot shook his head and tried to look pitiful. "I really wasn't."

"I am not just handing over my cat to you."

"I would owe you."

Cheryl waved him inside. "Oh, you will. You can start in two weeks by accompanying me to my father's Winter Holiday business dinner. And after that... we'll see." 

Eliot chanced a grin. It looked like Cheryl might still be mad about him running off in the middle of the night for a job – but not mad enough to end their casual arrangement. And – more importantly – not mad enough to deny him the cat.

"Your carrier isn't big enough, by the way." 

Eliot followed Cheryl into the sun-drenched living room where a large white cat with several light brown patches was sunning herself on a large pillow. The cat got up when they entered and rubbed herself against Cheryl's legs, butting her head into Cheryl's outstretched hand. 

"Hello, my darling." She scratched the cat behind the ears and then settled on the sofa with the cat on her lap, patting the space next to her. 

Eliot took a seat and took in the size of the cat. It was beautiful, but it barely fit on Cheryl's lap. His carrier was indeed not going to work. 

"She's very big."

"Hmm. She's a mix between Asian leopard, African serval and regular house cats. Of course she's big. But she's a sweetie, aren't you, Princess?"

"She looks... cuddly." He reached out a hesitant hand, but when the cat simply gave him a narrow-eyed look but otherwise ignored him, he touched her fluffy white fur. "Nice."

"I'm not going to ask why you want to borrow my cat," Cheryl said, "but if anything happens to Princess--"

"It won't. It's harmless, really."

"I don't want to know. That's the rule, Eliot. You don't ask about my dad, and I don't ask about your job." 

Eliot nodded. He knew all about her dad, of course – railroad tycoon, one of the richest man in the country, awful father. And she never had asked about his job, but she also never batted an eyelid when he told people he was an investment banker. 

"When are you going to bring her back? She has a vet's appointment next week."

"Shouldn't take longer than a couple of days."

Cheryl sighed and dropped Princess - who wasn't quite happy about the change in venue - on his lap. "I'll get her stuff."

An hour later, Eliot left Cheryl with a kiss to the cheek, a promise for two more favors other than her dad's dinner and a truly unhappy cat yowling in the trunk of his SUV. 

The drive back to LA was excruciating, but at least he had a cat for the night's showdown.

#

Hardison got up far earlier than he'd wanted to after the night he'd had. The 'interview' at the shelter had been fine. He'd flashed the pic of his fake niblings, talked about how great it was being an uncle – and how awful his sister's ex was and that the kids deserved some happiness in the form of a cuddly pet – and bragged with his newly-acquired knowledge of cats to make himself look competent enough to adopt a cat.

After the interview he'd been allowed to meet Spotty – changing the cat's name was item #8 on his to do list – and he'd spent half an hour playing with him. He was pretty entertaining – he seemed to be in a lanky-and-uncoordinated kitten phase, tripping over his own feet all the time. He also misjudged his own speed and the size of the little visiting room they'd been using, making him run into the door, Hardison and the shelter worker's legs. 

"He's a little rambunctious," the shelter worker had said. 

Hardison had grinned. "Perfect for two eight-year-olds!" 

Of course, when he'd asked when he could take Spotty home, the shelter worker had set up an appointment for the next day, pending their background check. Some further probing had revealed that the so-called background check was mostly the shelter employees stalking potential new pet parents on social media to check the pets would go to an adequate home. 

Hardison had grinned, said goodbye and spent the next hour creating a fake Facebook account for his alias. And then he'd created a bunch of other fake accounts because his alias seriously could _not_ be without friends on Facebook. He threw a bunch of real accounts into the mix and joined a few Facebook groups before he finally called it a night.

Picking the cat up was relatively painless. It took about half an hour to complete the last of the paperwork and get a receipt for the two hundred dollars adoption fee, and then he was holding Spotty and waving goodbye to the shelter.

Okay, so he hadn't technically stolen the cat, but it wasn't like Parker and Eliot had to know about the adoption fee. 

Hardison turned to the cat. "It can be our secret, right, Spo-- okay, no. Your name is going to be Tiger from now on." 

The cat meowed. 

"Yeah, I know, but leopard doesn't sound as impressive. Even if you do look like one. I still can't believe these experts didn't know they had an ashera in their shelter. Two hundred dollars! Ha! They could have gotten twenty-two thousand dollars for you." 

Getting the cat into the carrier was a struggle. Getting the cat out of the carrier at the pet groomer's was an even worse struggle. 

By the time the cat was back in the carrier and Hardison was on his way to the office for the cat showdown, he felt like he'd been dragged through a hedge, backwards. His shirt was torn where sharp kitten claws had gotten hooked into the sleeve, his skin was torn seemingly everywhere not covered by clothing and his dignity had left somewhere around the time he'd wrestled the cat into a rhinestone-covered collar at the pet store. 

"But I have a cat. And a damn expensive one. I'm so gonna win this."

#

Parker had spent the rest of the day planning. By nightfall she was parked across the street from a compound on the outskirts of town. According to Peggy, the breeder owning the compound had a reputation for very exclusive cats.

Security around the compound was extensive and Parker grinned. She liked a challenge. Stealing a cat had sounded boring at first, but there were cameras covering most angles, motion sensors and two night-time security guards making irregular rounds around the perimeter. 

She'd already stopped by a pet store and stolen everything she might need for the cat until the big showdown at the office. She'd picked the biggest carrier she could find and a leash – cats weren't really leash animals as far as Parker knew, but if the cat escaped from her, she'd have to steal another one, so it would go on the leash until it was Sophie's responsibility. 

The only stretch of wall not covered by a camera was behind a tree that had grown too tall. Soon enough the security staff would realize all they could see were leaves and call someone to cut it back, but until then Parker had unhindered access to the wall. On top of the wall, she crouched down and pulled out her miniature night-vision binoculars. As expected, the guard was on the path leading back to the main house. She waited until he'd entered the house and then dropped down from the wall. 

The compound consisted of four detached houses. One was the main house, where the cat breeder and his family and a couple of round-the-clock employees lived. Then there was the main cat house – where the cats were put together to breed. The nursery was separate from it. Cats about to give birth were moved and kept there until the kittens were weaned and sold, when the mama cats would move back to the main cat house. The forth building was a combination of gardening shed, garage and guest house.

The nursery was out. Parker didn't know enough about cats to know which kittens could be without their mother, and she was not about to take a cat plus several kittens. So she made her way to the main cat house, ducking low where the security cameras might pick her up, timing it so she moved when the cameras were facing the other way on their sweeps. It was almost too easy to reach the cat house. 

Parker inserted her lock picks into the main door lock and then hesitated. She reached out and turned the handle. 

The door swung open.

Parker pouted. A job was never much fun when there was only one layer of security to overcome.

The house smelled like cat. Parker made a face and slowly crept forward through the main hallway. Most of the doors had little windows that Parker used to check the rooms she passed. Lit up emergency exit signs provided enough light to make out the rough details. Some rooms were offices, some looked like doctor's offices and operating theaters and one was set up like a living room – maybe a break room?

She reached the end of the hallway. This door did not have a window, and Parker carefully turned the doorknob. 

The door opened to a large room containing dozens of cat cages. Some of the cats looked up when she entered, but most ignored her entirely and kept on snoozing. 

Parker slowly wandered down the line of cages. "Eeny, meeny, miny, moe," she counted off, grinning slightly, "catch a tiger by the toe." 

She came to a stop in front of one of the cages. The cat inside blinked up at her. The cat was big and it looked pretty cool with a striped fur and big ears. 

"You look a bit like a tiger," Parker said. "Let me catch you then." 

The cat sat up, flexing its paws. 

"But not by the toes, I guess. Those look sharp."

The cat purred. 

"Okay. How about this: you let me put on this harness and the leash, and then you walk outside with me." Parker dug into her pocket. "And in return, you get nice and juicy meat. How about it?"

She pushed the piece of beef through the bars of the cage and watched the cat devour it hungrily. Five minutes later, the cat got drowsy and curled up on the floor of the cage. 

"Nice kitty. Have fun dreaming. You'll be free when you wake up." 

Parker carefully maneuvered the cat into the harness and clipped on the leash. The cat was asleep for now, and supposedly would be for another thirty minutes, but Parker wasn't taking any chances.

She retraced her steps, checking briefly whether the security guard was outside before she made her way back to the wall. It was a little more challenging with the cat strapped to her back, but still too easy to be much fun. 

Back at her car, Parker put the cat in the carrier. In the light of the street lamp, it really did look a bit like a small tiger. According to the website, the breeder only dealt with ashera cats – so it wasn't a real tiger, not even a small one – and they were the most expensive. 

"Okay, kitty, here you go. " Parker upended the rest of the meat – the pieces without tranquilizers – into the carrier for the car to eat when it woke up. "A deal is a deal."

#

"What? What is this?" Nate looked from Eliot to Hardison to Parker before finally turning to Sophie.

"Oh, don't look at me," Sophie said. "You knew how this was going to end."

"One cat." Nate raised a finger. "We need one single cat."

Hardison cleared his throat. "Tiger is the best choice, obviously! Look at him. He's adorable. See those big ears and his lovely paws? He's gonna grow into these, don't worry. Besides, people love a kitten. And it's an ashera cat. They're the most expensive designer cat breed in America."

"Yeah," Eliot said, holding out his cat. "This is a snow ashera – much more expensive than yours, Hardison. And much prettier." 

"Prettier?!"

"Lovely white fur, lovely brown spots." He looked at Nate. "Princess looks like a cat that could be on TV."

Nate was still trying to process Eliot holding a cat named Princess when Parker snapped her fingers and a miniature tiger jumped on the table, sat down and stared at Nate. 

She shot Hardison a dirty look. "If any cat should be called Tiger, it's mine. Clearly a much better name for mine, since it actually looks like a tiger. Yours just has spots, Hardison. You should call it – I don't know – Spotty!" 

Hardison flinched. "Hey!" 

"What is this?" Nate asked. He hoped it wasn't an actual tiger.

"Royal ashera cat. _The_ most expensive designer cat breed in America. Stole it straight from a certified breeder." She glanced at Eliot and Hardison's choices. "Clearly the best cat."

Nate pinched the bridge of his nose. All he'd wanted was a cat to have the mark's allergies flare up and now he had _three_ cats and a bunch of professional criminals arguing like pre-schoolers on the playground.

#

"If you are quite done with your bickering," Sophie said loudly. She reached under the table and brought up a pet carrier. "Your cats are all -- fine," she said, "but also rather... boring? Pedestrian? Uninspired?"

Sophie rose to the chorus of protests and opened the pet carrier. She brought out an ordinary looking gray striped housecat with a heart-shaped white patch of fur over the left eye. The cat attempted to crawl back into the carrier and hide, but Sophie caught it around the middle. 

"The lesson, children, is this: what something is worth is completely dependent on what people are willing to _pay_."

Parker rolled her eyes. "Well, _duh_."

Sophie raised an eyebrow. "Then why did you three go out to acquire the most expensive cats when this one right here is worth more than all three of them combined?" 

"Okay, I'll bite." Hardison put his cat down on the table. "Why is that stupid cat worth more than ours combined?"

"Because this," Sophie said, "is Miss Snugglefluff." She looked down at the cat which had her back pressed against the carrier, hissing angrily at Hardison's cat. "Well, it's a cat that _looks_ like Miss Snugglefluff. Not that anyone – let alone the mark – would ever find out it's not her since the actual Miss Snugglefluff is currently recovering from a household accident that the owners are desperately trying to keep quiet."

Eliot frowned. "What?"

Sophie shook her head. "Miss Snugglefluff is internet famous. She has more instagram followers than the president and she has more Facebook friends than the Kardashians. Her owners have a line of merchandise on the market and actually get paid by celebrities to let them take selfies with the cat. She's also insured for 10 million dollars." 

She looked them up and down, weighing and judging all of their cats. She smirked. "You can take your cats with a combined net worth of maybe two hundred thousand and drop them back wherever you got them from. I believe Miss Snugglefluff The Fake and I have got it covered."

#

Six days later, the job was done and Sophie sat at the conference table at the office playing idly with Miss Snugglefluff The Fake.

Nate walked in and stopped dead in his tracks. "When are you giving that thing back? It was bad enough when Parker, Hardison and Eliot had theirs running around the place."

"Pish-posh." She ran a hand through Miss Snugglefluff The Fake's fur. "You have to admit that this cat is a total sweetie – not like those ruffians the others brought home."

"I'm just glad they're all gone," Nate said, taking a sip of his drink. He glanced at the gray ball of fluff. "Or nearly gone anyway."

"Don't listen to him, Missy." Sophie stroked the cat's chin. "Actually, Nate, I think I might keep this one for a bit." She smirked. "You know, if the real Miss Snugglefluff comes out of her surgery with unfortunate scars, I might just be able to sell them Miss Snugglefluff The Fake for a good chunk of money."

"Yeah, well--"

A loud shout from Hardison's office interrupted Nate.

"Hey, that's my wallet, Parker!"

"Yeah? You shouldn't keep it where just anyone can take it." 

There were sounds of a brief struggle, and Eliot laughing. 

"Hey, wait a second," Parker exclaimed, sounding scandalized. "Hardison, did you _buy_ that cat?!"

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you for reading! Happy Holidays!


End file.
